Stormfront
by Annamonk
Summary: A tale of storms and bubbles and what happens there. It's not my beach, I'm just building sand castles on it.
1. Chapter 1

**"It is not light that we need, but fire; it is not the gentle shower, but thunder. We need the storm, the whirlwind, and the earthquake." - Frederick Douglass**

* * *

Draco Malfoy took a deep breath. He watched the children hug their parents and felt a moment of peace bloom in the screaming chaos around him. Working with the emergency evacuation team was difficult but rewarding. He liked being able to help people, liked reuniting families and helping shelter those that needed someplace safe.

It was also a relief to be working in the Americas. No one looked askance at his auror robes or refused his help. He was just one of many faceless helpers.

"Malfoy." He turned to see another wizard approaching quickly. "They tell me your good on a broom."

"I am, sir." Draco nodded his head.

"This last group only got out because some crazy witch is holding the storm back with a shield. Chances are she'll be dead before we can get there on foot." The older wizard looked around them. "It's dangerous. I can't order you to do this, but..."

"I'll try sir. Low and fast, I can cut half the time off." Draco nodded. "Anyone willing to die to help strangers is worth the effort."

Draco was on his broom and skirting the fine grasses as he raced toward the barrier island. His emergency portkey was taped to his skin. One of the muggle born relief workers had insisted, and it was bloody brilliant. If he could get to her, he could save her, and he wouldn't have to fumble for a damn thing.

Getting there would be the biggest problem. The wind was vicious. Innocuous items became more dangerous than any bludger. A flower put missed him by inches, but he managed to hold steady. The deserted buildings of the local wizarding community came into view. Stretching his body out along the handle of his broom, he pressed it for every bit of power it had. He could feel the charms waning in the wood. The stirrups weren't as stable as they should be. It simply wasn't built to survive in this environment.

He poured his own magic into the broom. He knew it wouldn't make the distance without help, but he didn't have time for focused spell work. The broom surged forward as he fed it, and it would have to be enough.

He flew close to the buildings, darting into covered porches and using larger structures to hold the wind off and give him some relief. Each second counted. Every inch closer might make a difference.

The figure on the beach came into view. She was standing before a giant wall of water. Her robes and hair whipped around her in a chaotic dance. She looked more like a goddess of old than a witch. There was no wand in her hand. The force of her magic arced between her hands and pushed out in an ever widening stream of silver light. It was as if her patronus was a giant monster of a wall.

The broom shook under him and jerked as it gave its last and sent him tumbling onto the wet sand. He rolled on the wet sand trying to protect himself from the disintegrating wood. Pushing up, he sighted the witch and ran toward her. The winds ripped at his clothing, but he didn't falter. There was no point calling out to her, the raging storm was too bloody loud.

He pushed his body and leapt. He pulled her tight to his body wrapping one arm around her waist.

Reaching around her with his free hand to clasp his portkey, he felt a tingle of magic and something, some spell, was spinning them arse over tit through a wall of power. She gripped his arm as if she was trying to protect him. He saw a flash of sunlight and then they crashed down. He hoped they were safe as he collapsed onto the ground. The white sand beneath him stretched out to a calm turquoise sea. He pulled the witch a little further from the water before he gave into his exhaustion.

He heard someone humming. He wasn't planted on a beach any longer. He felt the smooth glide of sheets under his skin. He took a deep breath and felt a twinge in his side.

"You bruised your ribs." A familiar voice spoke from across the room. "I pulled the splinters out of you and treated the wounds. I'm brewing some bruise paste and a pain elixir, but it will be a few minutes."

He forced his eyes open and assessed the room. It was mostly white. The sheets were white. The walls were white. There were touches of blues and greens, but the pristine whiteness of it all was still far too funereal.

"You do know what we wear white for in the wizarding world, right?" Draco looked over at the witch.

"I am aware." Granger sighed and looked around. "I don't have much time for decorating."

"Where are we?" Draco followed Granger with his eyes. She moved between the two cauldrons with confidence. She'd always been a dab hand at potions. "I know I didn't activate my portkey."

He caught the slight drop in her shoulders and wondered at her reaction.

"This is my home." She took a deep breath. "I don't get much company, but I've got a fair library and the weather is always perfect."

She flicked her fingers and three drops of something splashed into the cauldron on the left.

"Why didn't you dump me off on the aurors?" Draco winced and pushed himself to a sitting position. "There's no need for you to take care of me."

"Some things are beyond my control." She turned around and glanced away from his bare torso, blushing. "I promise you will be safe here."

Draco assessed the witch. She was quiet and withdrawn. The dark blue dress that rippled when she moved was flattering, but she wasn't dressing to entice. There was a awkwardness to her that disturbed him.

"You really don't get much company, do you?" He pulled the sheet more securely around his waist.

"Luna has managed to visit a couple of times." Granger smiled. "It isn't easy."

"What isn't easy?" Draco wanted to cringe at his own intrusive question.

"My life is complicated." Granger shrugged. "It isn't some happily after fairytale."

Draco watched her closely as she moved around the room. It wasn't necessary. She was moving about to hide her anxiety. She fussed with a sheer curtain for a few minutes. The light flowing through it moved oddly scattering rainbows around the room.

"It's peaceful here." Draco wanted her to relax.

"It's a nice enough place." Hermione shrugged. "I know you've got questions. This place isn't quite normal. I'm sure you can sense it. I want you to be comfortable, so I'll try to answer them."

Draco frowned as she spun around. Her agitation was infectious.

"My home is a safe haven. Nothing will hurt you while you're here." Hermione twisted her hands together in front of her body. "We are not exactly in step with our world here. Your portkey won't work until my next task arises. It won't be long. It's usually days, but the longest span was just under a month."

"Next task?" Draco tilted his head.

"That doesn't matter." She crinkled her nose. "It's a tropical paradise this time round, so maybe you could view this as a vacation."

"This time round?" Every word just made him more curious.

"It's different every time. My things remain the same, but the..." He watched her struggle for the word. "Environment changes."

"What exactly is your home?" Draco looked around him. He watched her shift her weight from one bare foot to the other. She definitely had a story to tell, but he could tell she wasn't ready.

"You're going to thing I'm crazy." She flicked her hair over her shoulder and smiled widely. "Maybe I am, but I think it's a bubble."

Draco sat on the beach. It had been three days since he'd awakened here. It was oddly peaceful, but he'd be half mad if it weren't for Granger.

She wasn't intrusive, but she never turned him away. Whether he wanted to talk or simply sit, she was there. Warm and genuine, she drifted around him.

He'd never been allowed to just be. Malfoys had purpose. Even in the shadows of shame and ignominy cast by the war, he'd forged a path. He'd set goals.

"You're thinking deep thoughts." Hermione sat next to him.

"How do you do this?" He looked over at her. Her hair was smooth and looked like it was slick with water though he knew it would be dry to his touch. "You always had charts and color coded schedules. How can you just float here?"

"It's a long story." Hermione sighed. She glanced over at him. And he knew she was considering telling him something. "After the war, I was exhausted. Bellatrix did a lot of damage. The pain and the seizures weren't lessening. All the public appearances were draining me. Ron and Harry both wanted the fanfare and the freedom of it all. I just wanted to go home, but I didn't have one anymore."

She looked back out at the water. He could see the sadness in her, and, suddenly, he didn't want to know any more. He didn't need her dark secrets and her sorrows.

She opened her mouth and drew in a deep breath. The moist, fragrant air weighed on him. He knew she was going to tell him her tale of woe.

He looked at the lush greenery and the bright flowers that sat back from the shore. Here there was peace, but in her was a storm. He knew it.

He looked back at her, saw her look up at the oddly featureless sky, and knew the words were coming.

Panic pushed up from his own darkness, and he grabbed her. She blinked at him. Her shock at his sudden action stilled her words for a second, but they were still coming.

Draco saw her open her mouth as if the world had started to move more slowly than he. Once the words started, he was certain they wouldn't stop. Fear raged through him like a storm, and he did the only thing that came to mind.

He kissed her. He pressed her down into the sand and held her in place with his body. He buried her words with his tongue and his lips and his teeth.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note**_

 _Storms are a fact of life where I live. It isn't a question of if the storm will hit. It's merely a matter of when. They remain with you._

 _This story may owe its inspiration to Alison, Katrina, Rita, Ike, and Harvey, but it isn't about that kind of suffering._

 _Storms take many forms in our lives._

 _Some people lose everything. Please keep those people in your thoughts and prayers. They really need them now._

 _Thanks,_

 _Anna_


	2. Chapter 2

**"If patience is worth anything, it must endure to the end of time. And a living faith will last in the midst of the blackest storm." - Mahatma Gandhi**

* * *

Hermione felt Draco's arms tighten around her. She drew in a deep breath and reveled in his scent. Just being close to him brought her a sense of peace. His breath blew out across her shoulder in long even streams making it obvious that he was still asleep. Sharing her bed with him for the last five days had been a challenge. She was used to being alone, but Draco invaded her space with no trepidation. He was possessive and demanding even in slumber and a dedicated cuddler at all times. She shifted and ran her fingers over his muscled arm.

She wanted to be ashamed of their quick fall into bed, but soon he would return to his world. Loneliness loomed on the horizon, so she dedicated herself to reveling in the moment. There simply wasn't time to waste. She'd hoped for a longer idyll, but she could feel the power building inside her body and knew that the bubble would soon burst. She would do some good, and he would return to his life.

She blinked back a stray tear. crying served no purpose. There would be time for tears later. She knew better than to dream, but she'd let herself pretend for a moment that there was a future of blond haired babies and the joys of a shared life. It was a pleasant fantasy, but it could never be more than that. At some point, she knew she'd be glad for the memories. Their value would far outweigh any regrets.

"You're thinking loudly." He pulled her in closer. "We can't have that."

"We need to get out of bed. There are a few things I need to prepare. Your vacation will be ending soon. I can feel the change." She stroked his cheek. "It's not always the safest environment into which I get spilled out. I want you safe."

"So, I'm supposed to let you deal with whatever comes and get myself to safety?" Draco shook his head. "I'm an auror, Hermione. I'm not going to run."

"You have to go. I'm cursed. There's no way out for me." Hermione sat up and summoned a shirt. It happened to be his. "You need to go."

"Why didn't you tell me you were cursed?" Draco frowned and grabbed her hand. The jolt of his magic against hers was alluring. She laced her fingers into his and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "We could have been working on the counter."

"I was planning to tell you." She looked down at their clasped hands. "Then you kissed me. Hecate help me, but I just wanted something normal. I wanted to pretend for a little while that I was worthy of love."

"Of course, you're worthy of love." Draco stroked her cheek with his free hand. "You are kind and generous. You're so damn good, it makes me ache. I wish you'd told me. I don't want this to end."

Hermione examined his face. The fall of his silver blond hair didn't mask the sincerity of his gaze. All her fears and pain seemed to erupt at once. Years spent mostly alone had left her with no ability to hide her emotions. Tears tracked down her face to join the mucus from her nose. She turned her face away from him, not wanting him to see her in such a state. She felt him shift on the mattress and found herself pulled into his lap. Cradling her against his chest, he stroked her hair.

"I'm sorry." She managed after the initial storm of tears faded. "I was so selfish."

"You've done nothing wrong." He rested his chin on the top of her head. "I knew you were going to share your story, but I wasn't ready."

"So, you kissed me." Hermione pulled back and looked up at him. "Aren't we a pair?"

She felt his body shake before she heard him chuckle. She felt her own lips twitch and gave in to the urge to laugh. They collapsed back onto the bed in a twist of limbs, sharing kiss peppered laughter.

"Curses can be broken." Draco stroked her hair back and propped himself up on one arm. "Come with me."

"Did you ever read _The Parameters of Curses_ by Phineas Nigellus Black?" Hermione looked up into his eyes. "It's not _Curses Moste Fowle_ , but it lays things out in a clear and concise manner."

"I've read both." Draco rolled his eyes. "Did you forget who I am? I think my mother read them to me as bedtime stories."

"I'm not likely to forget anything about you." She resisted the urge to call him a ferret and rolled her eyes. "The most effective curse is self inflicted or twisted by a close family member. My curse is both."

"How is that possible?" Draco frowned. She wanted to soothe the crease between his eyes away, but there was nothing for it.

"It's complicated." Hermione traced a finger along his bare pectoral muscle. "And, it doesn't matter."

She could see the war between common sense and curiosity so plainly on his face.

"I remember. You didn't like the social demands of being a war hero, so you?" He whirled his hand around as if that would encourage her to spill her secrets out.

"You don't need the details." She chewed on her lower lip and considered how to abbreviate the story. "I went to find my parents. I'd obliviated them and given them new lives to keep them safe."

"Smart." Draco nodded. "The price on their heads was quite high."

"They didn't appreciate my efforts." She smiled tightly trying to keep the grimace and tears at bay. Shed spilled enough on him already. "They said I was evil, that magic had made me evil."

"Well, clearly, they're Bedlamites." Draco shook his head. "You saved their lives."

"I took their lives. I made them into different people." Hermione looked away from his searching eyes. "I wanted to help Harry. I chose him over them. I chose my magic over them."

"So, you felt guilty." Draco nodded. "It was war. We all did shameful things. Some more than others."

"I just wanted my parents back. I wanted someone to hold me and love me without attached expectations." Hermione pushed her head back into the bed beneath her and closed her eyes for a moment. "So, I did what they wanted me to do in the first place."

"What did they want you to do?" Draco shifted and pulled her closer. "When?"

"When I first found out I was a witch." Hermione opened her eyes and met his concerned gaze. "The Ministry has a spell that removes the magic from an individual. Then it can be released."

"That's been made illegal. The children they used it on..." Draco leaned his forehead against her shoulder. "There were so many suicides. They'd been obliviated, but they knew something was missing. It was horrible."

"It is." Hermione curled into his chest. "When your core is just stabilizing, it takes, at most, a day. It took five months for me to expunge the magic from my system. I was staying in this tiny hovel of a hotel near them. everything was dreary and my body would twitch uncontrollably from time to time. People avoided me. Im fairly certain I looked like an addict, so I can't blame them. When I broke my magic free, I could hold it there in my hands. It was beautiful and mine. I didn't want to give it up. I cried for days before I managed to call my parents. They wouldn't meet me at their home, so I met them at a beach near their place. I handed my magic to my father. I told him that I'd give up being a witch, being magical. He just shook his head. There were some words exchanged. I begged. It wasn't pretty. Then, he raised my magic up and looked at it. I could see his hands stark against it. He flung it out into the sea and said it should do some good out in the world."

"He threw your magic into the sea?" Draco trembled against her. "How is that a curse?"

"He needed to smash it between his hands, to break it. When he threw it, it pulled me to it. I am still connected to it, but it has its own purpose now." Hermione turned her head away from Draco. "He gave my magic purpose. He gave it a job. I can't control it unless I'm doing something in service to that purpose."

"There has to be a way to stop this." Draco eased back from her slightly. "He could release the curse."

"He has no magic of his own. My magic powered his curse. If he had his own, he could release it. I don't know if he would. He believes in karma. Idle speculation aside, I'm stuck. The curse was formed with my own magic by a member of my blood family." Hermione shook her head. "Even his death won't release me."

* * *

Draco watched Hermione pace along the shore. Her anxiety grew with each passing hour. The pain that rode underneath everything she did was more obvious. There were times he could almost feel it himself. Living like this, crisis to crisis, almost always alone, had taken a huge toll on the girl he remembered. Her laughter was rare. Her smiles were always tinged with regret.

The desire to free her from this wreck of a life was so strong, but there was nothing he could do. He'd looked over her notes and research for two days. The trap was truly sprung.

He examined her world. The bubble they were in was drawing closer. The curved dome could no longer be mistaken for a distant sky. The world was shrinking around him and time was running out. He'd wasted two days looking for some shred of hope.

Their environment was in constant flux, but so was Hermione. It was easy to see the changes in her. The curls were back, and as wild as ever they were. The feel of power within her was intoxicating when they touched.

He licked his lips and fidgeted. The urge to grab her and run was strong. These days wasn't enough. Weeks, months, years, lifetimes, none of it was enough. He didn't want this to be a fond memory when he was an old doddering wizard.

Goddess Epona and all her horses, he wanted Hermione to be doddering along right beside him. He wanted to see her smile on his children, even with the overlarge teeth. He wanted it all.

Her father believed in karma, and, for once, he did as well.

He'd found his witch, found the future in her sweet kisses and gentle touches.

None of it mattered. She was cursed and so was he.

At least, he was deserving of the curse.

Turning to look back at the white walls of her home, the futility of it smacked him in the face. She'd given up. She'd accepted the white walls and the endless repetition of sacrifice as her own personal purgatory. She was serving time in a personal prison.

Anger filled him. He wanted to tear this place apart, to yell, to scream. He turned back to see her.

Anxiety and sorrow paced with her. He didn't need to see them. He knew they were there. She'd been here for years. He'd heard her broken stories of escape attempts. She'd raged and lost.

Giving in to his anger now would only deny him this time with her. These precious hours that dwindled away were all he had. He pushed back his grief. There would be time for that later.

He stepped out onto the beach with purpose. His stride was sure. The grit of the sand under his bare feet gave way to soft grasses. He didn't want this beach. He didn't want to remember her in a white room or on a lonely beach.

Rage and grief and everything else could wait.

The here and now beckoned.

His magic flowed out and her world changed. Green hills and rocky cliffs rose up. A single standing stone sprouted up next to her. He watched her as she looked around. The landscape continued to change to his will. The well of his magic seemed endless.

"What are you doing?" Hermione spun in a circle.

"There may be things I have to accept, but I'm not wasting this time with you trapped in thoughts of what might have been." Draco moved towards her. His magic flared out, lifted her, and carried her to him. "This is our time."

He drew in a breath and waited for her words. He wanted everything, even her endless, yammering words. She stared up at him and traced her fingers along his cheekbones.

"I love you, Draco." She swallowed. "I didn't mean to do this to you. I didn't want to hurt you."

"I know curses, I know darkness, and I know you." Draco spun her around and they looked out at last remnants of her sandy beach. "You don't surrender. You don't falter. You are steadfast. You are kind. You are all that is good in the world."

"Draco, I'm not some paragon." She shook her head. "I've done things, bad things."

"You need to forgive yourself." Draco pulled her back against his chest. "You did what you had to do. You didn't hide away. You stood and fought. You may have gotten a bit dirty, but you saved the world. Stop punishing yourself."

He turned her back to face him and saw the tears caught on her eyelashes. Each one was a universe unto itself. Each one was both purgatory and salvation.

"When this bubble breaks you have to go." Hermione blinked and sent more tears down her cheeks. "Promise me."

He pushed her back against the stone. He didn't want to make promises. They could trap a wizard in unusual ways. He stroked her side and decided that his best course was the one he'd already employed.

He kissed her. Pressing her up against the smooth side of the looming lapis pillar, he pushed her skirt up and ripped away the delicate lace keeping them apart. A simple spell fell from her lips, taking the rest of their clothing away, and he was home.

He let his thoughts go. Words like forever and fidelity poured through his mind as he poured his love on her with his body. All the vows he longed to give her were set free inside his mind because his lips were far too busy worshipping her to speak them.

He was kissing her shoulder when he pressed his palm to the stone. It was smooth and cool against his skin. He looked up at her hand when he heard her smack the stone.

The sudden arc of magic sent him over the edge and ripped his mouth free of her skin with a roar of power.

They collapsed to the ground in a tangle of limbs, her body sprawled across his.

Draco dragged in deep panting breaths and stroked his fingers through her hair. He opened his eyes and noticed the play of light across the skin of her shoulder. The stone seemed to sparkle with constellations.

They spent their final hours lost in each other.

He felt a shift in the power, and sat up. Hermione took a deep breath and summoned their clothes with a waive of her hand. She didn't look at him while she dressed. Watching her try to hide the devastation of the moment, only brought into stark relief. She walked toward the stone examined it.

"These aren't runes or even Celtic knots." Hermione traced her fingers along the stone. "I've never seen anything like them."

"I have." Draco rested one arm around her waist. "It's a star chart."

"None of these constellations correspond to the ones in the sky. I mean that could be Lyra, but why is it next to Lynx?" Hermione chewed on her lower lip. "So, what does it mean?"

"I have no idea." Draco traced one of the constellations with his finger. Here was his hope. He hated lying to her, so he gave her a bit of truth. "But I think it's a good thing."

Hermione stumbled as the ground shifted under their feet and grabbed his hands. Wind blasted around them carrying her hair up into a wild nimbus. He rubbed his thumbs along her delicate wrists. There was no time for words or truths. The stone towered next to them, forgotten. There was a tremor in the ground and he felt his magic flare and quicken, preparing to defend him. They had moments. She pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"It's time. Remember that I love you." She blinked back her tears. "Be happy for me. Live your life. Please."

He closed his eyes, but managed a nod. He felt the pressure change around him and saw Hermione wading into the water toward a muggle ferry. It was going to capsize. He raised his wand, but she was faster. The vessel righted in the water, and she was gone.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note**_

 _I hope you are continuing to enjoy this story._

 _Thank you all for your kindness and well wishes. I do live in Texas with my family. We came through the storm with little damage. Others were not so lucky. Please, keep them in your thoughts and prayers._

 _Thank you,_

 _Anna_


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